After the Breaking

When the light broke,

When it shattered into its

infinite pieces

that drifted

in leisurely Spirals

that caught the odd

updraft,

so that,

just when you thought 

you had hold of one,

it slipped -
a half-skip -

in that syncopated

downbeat to

back up

again.

When the light broke 

in that glorious, 

inhaled

breath

that was -

is - 

will be -

Creation,

there was darkness;

there was light,

There was evening

and morning.

There was day to follow 

night.

It was all there,

in the breath taking

breaking of that glorious

first Light.

When the light broke,

When there was Now

and Yet to be,
each piece,

each jagged, holy piece
that drifted and
caught hold
and held
and drew near
and was neither
here
nor There
Was

(will Be)

an echo
of Worlds
and time,
Waiting, shivering
in eager anticipation,
to be Found
and returned;
to be tethered,
piece by piece
by jagged,
holy
piece,
to the beginning,
to the end,
and the yet to Be;

To become,
Again:
completed
and completely whole,
a single, sacred
Light,
to illuminate
a kaleidoscope
of Then and
Was
and endless
Now,
what has always
been:
olam haba.